Where am I?
The question echoed in my own mind before I could even whisper it.
My eyes searched the darkness slowly, cautiously - as if the room itself might react to sudden movement. The ceiling above me was familiar. My curtains. My cupboard. My desk.
My room.
So why did it feel so wrong?
I tried to move. Just a finger. Just a twitch.
Nothing.
My body lay frozen - stiff, heavy, as if invisible chains pressed me into the mattress. I could feel my heartbeat rising, loud and desperate in my ears. I tried again. Move.
Move.
MOVE.
Nothing.
That's when I sensed it.
Three arm-lengths away, beside my study chair, someone was sitting.
A man.
Still.
Watching.
He looked… almost refined. Well-dressed. Calm posture. The kind of face you would trust in daylight. The kind of smile that belongs in polite conversations.
No.
He was a gentleman.
And yet something was wrong.
The air around him felt heavy — like the room was holding its breath. His eyes were fixed on me, unblinking. Not angry. Not wild.
Obsessed.
As if I were the only thing that existed.
The ceiling light flickered.
For a split second, darkness swallowed him.
And when the light returned — something had shifted.
His face looked sharper. Shadows clung to him unnaturally. His eyes seemed deeper, darker… hungry. The calm gentleman now felt like something pretending to be human.
My eyelids betrayed me and blinked.
When I opened them
He was closer.
My chest tightened.
Why can't I move?
I screamed inside my head, commanding my hands, my legs — do something. But my body refused. It was like my mind and my muscles were disconnected.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
His gaze alone felt like fingers tracing over my nerves, sending electric waves of fear through me. My breathing grew shallow. The room felt smaller. Thicker.
The light dimmed again — slower this time.
Shadows stretched unnaturally along the walls.
Another blink.
He was at the edge of my bed now.
Smiling.
Not wide. Not dramatic.
Just enough.
I forced my eyes open wider, terrified to lose sight of him. But blinking was no longer under my control. My body wasn't mine anymore.
The mattress dipped.
He was beside me now.
Lying there.
Facing me.
His expression unreadable. His eyes inches from mine. I could feel his presence like cold air against my skin. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might shake me free.
Another blink.
His hand lifted slowly.
Time stretched.
And then—
I woke up.
Sitting upright in my bed.
Breathing heavily.
Alone.
The chair was empty. The light steady. The room normal.But the air still felt… watched.
And for a second — just a second —
I wasn't sure if I had truly woken up.
And I was wrong.
I hadn't woken up.
He leaned closer again.
That same unreadable smile curved on his lips — calm, controlled, almost patient. His fingers rose slowly, hovering in the air as if deciding where to land.
Then suddenly—
Pressure.
Not sharp. Not violent in appearance.
But firm. Possessive.
His hand pressed down against me — over my chest — enough to steal my breath and send panic flooding through my veins. The contact felt deliberate, calculated. Not accidental.
I gasped.
The air refused to enter my lungs properly. My heart pounded wildly beneath his hand, as if trying to push him away from the inside.
"Stop…" I whispered, my voice shaking.
He didn't speak.
He never speaks.
His eyes remained locked on mine — studying my fear like it was something fascinating. Like my helplessness was the only response he had been waiting for.
The room felt smaller. The walls seemed closer. The dim ceiling light flickered again, casting his shadow across me, stretching over my body like something claiming territory.
I tried to move my arms.
Nothing.
I tried to twist away.
Nothing.
It was as if the air itself held me still.
His hand lingered just long enough to make sure I understood — he could touch, control, invade my space whenever he wanted.
Then slowly… he withdrew.
He stood up without a word.
Walked toward the door.
Paused.
That smile again — faint, knowing.
And then he stepped into the dark hallway beyond, disappearing into the blackness as if he belonged to it.
The door remained open.
And the silence that followed was worse than his presence.
Because now I knew—
He wasn't just watching.
He was testing how far he could go.
And something told me…
He would come back.